Friday, 9 October 2015

Until about five years
ago, I was afraid we would never have relevant India- centric literature for
young adults. Unanswered questions teased me: Why were we, as writers and
readers, afraid to engage with the societal skeletons in our collective
cupboards? Why were we constantly shielding our teens from explosive subjects that
throng our media?

My misgivings vanished
when Ranjit Lal ~ whom I have long admired for the engaging bandwidth of his
writings ~ published ‘Faces in the Water,’
brilliantly tackling female infanticide with sensitivity and surety. His novel won
the Crossword Best Children’s Book award in 2010.

Was his a random excursion
down an offbeat track? Lal, to my delight, proved me wrong to establish himself as an
intrepid explorer of the young adult genre. Take the 1984 Delhi riots in ‘The Battle for No. 19’. Or child sexual
abuse in ‘Smitten.’ Or teen sexuality
in ‘Black Limericks.’ I came to
applaud each rivetting read for his literary daring and masterly storytelling.

In ‘The Secret of Falcon Heights,’ Lal engages
with other taboo subjects that seldom enter Indian drawing rooms. Here he
explores (hold your breath!) political corruption, social ostracism and even an
episode with shadows of Bhanwari Devi in 1992.

On the tantalizing book
jacket, a young woman in black sets a falcon free to soar against an idyllic
landscape. The cover blurb reads: ‘She’s beautiful. She’s fearless. She’s
bewitching. So why is she the ‘leper’ of Pahadpur?’ Lal treats his subject with
a cinematic, edge-of-the-seat vividness, interspersed with episodes of
distilled teen spirit, pulsing with life.

Sandeep, 17, narrates
the story, set against a post-colonial pucca hill station, complete with a
club, an army set-up and treks into the hill. How will he and his siblings ~ Manish
(14) and sister Chubs (7) ~ survive three months in the internet- free hills
with their terrier Jacko, under the eagle eye of great aunt Mita Masi? They are tantalized by Aranya, the girl next
door at Falcon Heights. The townsfolk shun her; they gossip darkly about her past.
But what is the truth?

With all the drama of breaking
news, Lal transforms the mundane into an irresistible adventure that is unputdownable,
yet inoffensive to teen readers, parents and teachers alike. His dialogue,
distinctive of sibling rivalry and revelry, helps. So does his ability to weave
in full-blooded twists and turns into his quick-paced plot. Who are the
s/heroes; who the villains? Lal keeps the reader guessing almost till the end.

Sandeep’s voice is in
perfect sync with today’s teens. Take this nuanced hint of first love when driving past Aranya in
distress on a rainy road, thanks to Mita Masi’s prejudices: ‘I turned around
and stared: her face was lit by the battery lantern… Her jaw was taut, her chin
stuck out defiantly, rain streaming off it, but there was anguish in her eyes,
the same devastated, hollow anguish I had seen in Papa’s eyes when Mom passed
away.’ From that moment on, it is impossible not to root for Sandeep’s
happiness, no matter how danger-laced.

Lal’s writing is
charming with its unusual detailing. For instance, the way the older siblings
nurture Chubs playfully, coaxing her out of her wandering ways. Or the enchanting evocation of Aranya’s falcon
as it mantles its pigeon prey on a ledge. With the trio’s parents out of the
big picture (a device often used by Enid Blyton and JK Rowling), the coast is
clear for an adrenalin-fuelled plot.

This powerful narrative soars, dips and lands
as effortlessly as Aranya’s falcon. In Lal’s experienced hands, it never
nose-dives into patchiness of tone, plot or character.

I am now a committed Ranjit
Lal fan for his convincing unravelling of the ugly, everyday India. Especially
since he has made this world accessible to young adults.